


Parks and Revolution

by Cinaed



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Exes, M/M, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 16:18:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was only the slight creak of the floorboard to announce someone had entered Valjean’s office, and then a shadow fell over him like a shroud.</p><p>Valjean knew it was Javert without looking up. No one else could make a room’s temperature drop several degrees merely by entering it.  </p><p>(Welcome to Parks and Miserables, where Valjean is Ron Swanson and Javert is Tammy 1.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parks and Revolution

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be written as part of a 3-sentence meme on Tumblr. Obviously I am not good at following directions. 
> 
> Blame goes to IRC, the anon who prompted me, and my own brain for wanting this fusion so badly.

There was only the slight creak of the floorboard to announce someone had entered Valjean’s office, and then a shadow fell over him like a shroud.

Valjean knew it was Javert without looking up. No one else could make a room’s temperature drop several degrees merely by entering it.  

Valjean looked up anyway. “Hello, Javert.”

He’d been striving for a neutral tone; he thought he’d succeeded until Javert’s mouth twitched into something not quite a smile.

“Jean,” Javert answered.

Silence fell, the weighty kind that made Valjean want to seize his survival bag and flee again, but he’d left the bag behind at the cabin after Enjolras had convinced him to return to work. “That’s enough small talk,” he said when the silence became unbearable. “What do you want?”

“You remember what I do for a living,” Javert said.

It was not a question, but Valjean answered it anyway. “Yes,” Valjean said steadily. Javert’s gaze didn’t flicker as Valjean added, “You ruin people’s lives.”

He supposed that he shouldn’t have been surprised when Javert drew a large manila folder out from under his arm and slid the folder across the desk to him.

“You’re being audited,” Javert said. Satisfaction turned his voice almost lilting.

Valjean’s stomach tightened. He did not let himself look at the folder, or at Javert’s fingers, which tapped out a slow beat upon the desk. “I don’t care.”

Javert’s eyes gleamed, that dangerous, victorious glitter they got when he caught someone in a lie. “Then why is your beard trembling?”

Valjean did not reach up to touch his jaw, but it was a very near thing.

“I’m here as a….” Javert paused, his mouth twisting briefly. Valjean wondered what word had first come to his lips. “…an ally. Call it nostalgia, or perhaps guilt for all the times I wanted to smother you in your sleep.”

“I don’t need your help,” Valjean said.

“You’re wrong,” Javert said, almost before Valjean had finished speaking. “You do.” His mouth twisted again. “As you’re so fond of saying, it’s a free country. Good luck.”      

Javert paused in the doorway, looked back. 

The IRS folder remained on the desk between them like a thrown gauntlet, but Valjean didn’t lower his gaze from Javert’s, watched instead as something like cold amusement briefly curved Javert’s mouth.

Javert offered him one final sally, his voice all but caressing the final word as he left: 

“I do hope you don’t go to jail.”


End file.
